Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(54)

"Nick knows how to survive in the wild," August sighed. "I have no idea where he'd start looking for Cutter, though. We've received no intel on his whereabouts from the moment he started running."

"Is the President prepared to call him an outlaw yet?" I asked.

"I don't know. She wants a meeting when we get back."

"Auggie," I half rose in my seat. The only thing keeping me from crawling over the seat in front of me was the seatbelt and Rafe's hands. Cutter was watching the carnage; he wanted to see the capitol in Sacramento fall, so he'd arranged for a view nearby. The explosion happened on the lowest level, in the middle of a wedding reception, bringing the dome down on top of two hundred guests.

I'll watch you die with pleasure, you bastard, I sent to him just before I fainted.

*

"Cabbage, your nose bled while you were out."

I woke propped against Rafe's chest, a cold, wet cloth held against my face.

"Did Auggie get the news?"

"He did."

Rafe and I were in the back of the jet, near the bathroom. Rafe had taken the entire row of seats for us, so he could stretch out and hold onto me at the same time.

"How many?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want to know? Someone is already taking responsibility—he sent video to the national news organizations."

"Cutter's paid monkey, no doubt," I said. "Do we have photographs of him?"

"I believe Colonel Hunter is waiting for Dr. Shaw's approval before he shows you anything."

"Then his approval can't come soon enough."

*

"Ted Ryan," Auggie handed his tablet to me so I could watch the video. We drove toward the villa in the back of a limousine the President sent to pick us up at the air base.

"He's the one," I agreed, studying Ted Ryan's images. "Paid by Cutter and Cutter's allies to bring down the house, so to speak." I blinked as Ted Ryan, in front of a white wall, proclaimed that the United States belonged to him and his constituents. He'd watched too many terrorist videos, evidently, because he brandished an automatic weapon as he spoke to the camera.

"Good luck finding me, you f*ckers," he said at the end. I got an unedited version of the recording—the news stations bleeped out his profanity.

"The whole nation is terrified and every statehouse, including the ones supposedly on Ted's list of approved bureaucratic vendors, is covered in security and nobody is going in or out without getting X-rayed and cavity-searched first," Auggie muttered.

"Do we have photographs of anyone else associated with Mr. Ted Ryan?" I asked.

"Here." James leaned forward and handed me a second tablet. I stared at three photographs.

"Yeah. All of these were in on this," I agreed, handing the tablet back to James.

"After our meeting with the President, we have scheduled appointments with medical personnel at the villa. Just to make sure nothing serious is going on," Auggie held up a hand.

He didn't mention my fainting, but I knew Leo Shaw wouldn't let that go without doing an MRI and who knew what other tests, just to make sure my head was in one piece.

"What about Maye?" I asked.

"She's upset about Nick, evidently. Jeff has been trying to calm her down, but she wants to go after him."

"Understandable," I said. "I have a question. If Nick were pitted against Becker, who'd win?"

"Becker is a bull, while Nick is a tiger," Auggie said. "I'd put my money on Nick."

"Rafe?" He'd been silent, listening to the conversation and watching the video with me. He'd know whether Nick might take Becker.

"Becker relies on brute strength. Nick uses his head," Rafe replied. "Perhaps you'll tell me later what this is about?"

"Sure."

"Good." He pushed a lock of hair behind my right ear and offered a smile.

*

"Madam President, they're here." We followed the President's aide into the Oval Office.

"Thank you, Will. That will be all," the President rose to greet us as we trooped in. Will shut the door behind him when he left.

"Good lord, you look like you've been hit by a truck," Amelia Sanders shook her head and pointed toward seats. We waited for her to sit first, then took our seats with grateful sighs.

She was right—all of us had facial bruises, scrapes and scratches, while I still nursed a bloody nose. James' wrist was probably broken, but he was toughing it out until he could get an X-ray.

"If Rafe hadn't protected our backs, we'd be in worse shape," August pointed out.

"Thank you," the President nodded toward Rafe.

"We wouldn't have the information we do if it hadn't been for Corinne," he added.

"We already have someone working on the information you sent on the woman, but so far, all we have is disconnected numbers, an abandoned website and an e-mail address that has been canceled. We're still doing research. Our attention, however, has turned to the disaster in Sacramento."

"Tell her, Corinne," August nodded to me.

"Cutter paid Ted Ryan for this," I said. "James has photographs of three others who were involved."